


High Tolerance

by rhiannonsgypsy



Category: N/A - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Memoir, Original Characters - Freeform, Personal story, true story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 20:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17495243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhiannonsgypsy/pseuds/rhiannonsgypsy
Summary: True events.Welcome to my world.





	High Tolerance

Prologue

I'm lucky.

You're not going to see those words often throughout this story because, for a very long time,  _fortunate_ was something that I wasn't even allowed to consider myself. Though, I'd always longed for fortune and serenity, I never managed to find it in the ways that I thought I'd be able to. Instead, I had to redefine the word.

But, there's one thing that I know I'm pretty damn lucky to have experienced.  _Love_. Before you roll your eyes, I want you to hear me out, because I never believed in soulmates either. There's been fear, pain, uncertainty, and more darkness than I knew what to do with. But, emerging through that darkness had taught me so many things. One being the true definition of love.

It has nothing to do with your blood, your lineage, not even that dreaded family tree. It's not about the people that you were told to love. It's about the people who showed you what it means to love and be loved. And for those people, I'm so very lucky.

Because, I have my own family, now. It's messy, it's wild, it's complicated, an I wouldn't trade it for the world. My family is made up of denim-wearing hoodlums with messy hair and even messier dreams who are all just trying to navigate their way through this screwed up world hand in hand. We have our fair share of bad habits, we've made our bad decisions, we've got less than desirable pasts and plenty of skeletons hidden away in our closets.

We drive too fast, but only because we know where we need to be and don't want to waste a second getting there. We love too strongly, but only because when we catch a glimpse of even a little bit of hope in someone, we grab onto that for dear life. We swear, we run wild, we use the Lord's name in vain because we don't really believe in Him, we create scandals that ruin our already tarnished names, we put our town to shame, but it's because we're sick and tired of the way that we've been instructed to live.

Those are the people that I love. It's because of them that I'm luckier than most.

I know love in the form of my little sister. I can still cal her that because even if she's three inches taller than me, I'm still four years older. Everything important that I have ever done in my life has been with her in mind. I cut my childhood short and most people thought it was because I was ready to go to parties and have sex and drink all at the young age of fourteen, but it was all for her. So that she could be a child, I grew up.

She's the only person that I would never regret my love for, that I'd never wonder about. The one person that I'm certain I need in this life and the next. Through the ups and the downs, the distance and the proximity, the good days and the dark times, I've always been working to pull her back to me. Back to safety. If I truly am lucky, it is because I have her.

But, there's one more blessing that I thank the universe for each and every night. My sister showed me love, my friends practiced love, but  _him?_ He taught me love.

I think the way in which we measure love is really quite simply - the lasting effect. Growing up, every time I started to like someone new, I noticed that I liked them more than the last person. With each and every crush or romantic affair, my affection for the person grew from one to the next. And then, there's the peak. The one that left its mark and hasn't faded in any way, shape, or form. That's the one.

Because, after him, the climb came to a halt. Everyone who followed was nothing but a weak comparison that left me unsatisfied. That's how I knew. It's a twisted story, just you wait. The highs and lows are like that of an ocean hurricane. The good days were sweeter than anything I've ever known before, and the bad times made walking through Hell seem like a pleasantry.

This is not a very happy story. But, I am lucky, because I have been in love.

Stolen glances in the hallways kind of love, making out under the bleachers kind of love, talking on the phone for hours kind of love. Love that gives romantic songs new meaning and puts rom-coms to shame. And that's how it all began, within the brick walls of that old high school. It was all innocent and fresh and bright, as beginnings tend to be.

Sneaking through windows, late night drives in fast cars, sitting on rooftops, weekend getaways, summer days spent in the lake, stepping onto a stage hand in hand because we both seemed to understand the longing of escape. Nights at the drive-in, breaking the law, running through fields, hooking up in the back seat, staring at the stars.

Being looked down on, spat on, treated like dirt beneath a shoe. Absent mothers, fathers with no problem laying harmful hands on their own kids, broken windows, broken homes, broken bones, and broken children. My dad drank beer for breakfast, his dad kicked him out of the house. Hidden feelings, impossible sentences, disastrous house parties, lost kids running through the streets, seeking refuge with the shadows of the night.

No choices. Working ourselves to the bone, but it wasn't enough. Shady deals, drug running, the cops didn't care. A step together, a step apart, I pulled and he pushed. Remember, I mentioned it wasn't always a happy story? I meant it. Because, a fight in the rain is't nearly as romantic or dramatic as you think it might be. What the movies don't show, is the nausea that comes with walking away from the one you love. The way that the rain water mixes with the tears on your cheeks and dries out your skin. How the wetness of your clothes chills you to the bone and leaves you shaking long after you've dried off.

It was a love that lead to bad decisions, mistaken paths, a hope here, a dream there, but an inescapable delusion all around. Losing your way, losing your identity, losing yourself, and losing far too much blood. Screaming, sirens, darkness, and all I could hear was my own heartbeat ringing through my ears, slowly but not so surely. Because, I thought that his voice was merely a hallucination, brought on by my own adrenaline attempting to ease the transition from this world to the next.

That is the kind of love that I know.

Love that was meant to be, but far too early. Love that wasn't given enough time to solidify. And it was because life got in the way for us adult children, and therefore we've always been trained to put our own feelings and desires on the back burner. Needs and essentials must be dealt with first. I suppose the fallout made me realize that he'd never been merely a desire, he was always an essential.

He gave me the kind of love the comes with second chances. which is very much different from a new beginning. And it has everything to do with the person that you're meant to be with. The person that you know if you never make it back to, you'll miss forever, like a piece of your own soul had been ripped away and tossed out the window.

The kind of love with two stormy blue eyes and everything standing between them and I.


End file.
